


The tender gravity of kindness

by Melanie_D_Peony



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Emotional Hurt, Ficlet, Fluff and Angst, Gentleness, Hurt/Comfort, Idiots in Love, Love Confessions, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Self-Indulgent, Set in Episodes 159-160 | Scottish Safehouse Period, Short & Sweet, Tea As Love Language, no beta we die like men, soft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-29
Updated: 2020-04-29
Packaged: 2021-03-01 23:29:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,363
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23855401
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Melanie_D_Peony/pseuds/Melanie_D_Peony
Summary: It's one thing to get Martin out of the Loney.It's another to get the Lonely out of Martin.
Relationships: Martin Blackwood/Jonathan Sims
Comments: 10
Kudos: 97





	The tender gravity of kindness

**Author's Note:**

> Sharing this self-serving, tooth-rotting piece fluff because why the heck not, eh?

The cold is steeped deep in Martin's bones, so Jon piles all the blankets available in the safe house on top of him as he lies in the bed. He offers a weak smile to Jon before he retreats to the depths of Daisy's bungalow while Martin continues to listen to the echo of the monotonous rumble of the waves as they are hitting the unforgiving, pale cliffside. He can feel the push and the pull, the waxing and the waning of the tide around his legs from when he stood in the water for hours. He hopes it will all fade away, he hopes that the next time they walk around the Scottish hills he won't see fog where there clearly isn't any. With Lukas being gone for good, it can only be a matter of time, Martin thinks.

But for now, there's only the chill.

That is until Jon calls out for him from the kitchen. Even the gentle coerce of the man's voice has the power to lift the haziness a bit. Martin's unsure whether it's an Avatar thing or it's something about Jon that forces him out of the hardened shell of self imposed isolation. But the simple lilt of his name, spoken by Jon, affects him like proper Compelling. He emerges from the bedroom's black holeish gravity with a blanket around his shoulders. Jon is at the kitchen table. A steaming tin mug proudly displayed in front of him.

'I made tea.' Jon states the obvious. He gestures for Martin to sit. 'For you.' 

There's an alien feeling in Martin's throat, a pressure to ask whether this really was the reason why Jon had dragged him out here, where the urgency of the cold attacks with redoubled effort. But he knows that it's not him talking. That's merely a little shred of the Lonely poisoning his bloodstream, his body incapable of fending it off just yet. The real him is simply curious to find out where Jon is going with this.

He reaches out and lifts the cup to his lips.

'Thank you, Jon.' He says and adds after the first sip. 'It's really good.' 

'I learned it from you.' Jon rushes in and Martin can tell that they are on track now, certain that this is some kind of exposition to whatever Jon actually wants to say. 'That is to say that I decided to brew tea and suddenly I just Knew how exactly do you make yours so nice.' 

Martin can't repress a little smile at that. He had no idea just how much did Jon appreciate the simple gesture. 

'I can't... ' Jon continues, with a little stammer, his voice gathering momentum, spluttering like an old engine. 'I'm unable to repress the urge to Know things just yet. But lately, I've been trying to channel it. Force myself to only learn the smallest possible bits.' 

'Like how to make good tea?' 

'Like how to make good tea, yes. But I can't fully control it, for the time being at least. For instance, today I tried to Know whether you were truly out of the Lonely.' 

Martin loops his fingers around the mug for comfort. There's a scortch to the tea that feels oh so nice. It warms him a little from the inside in a truly inexplicable way, unlike the cup they had on the train on the way here. 

And Heaven knows, he needs all the comfort he can get, because he's dreading what he is about to hear.

'The answer is no, by the way.' Jon hurries to offer, but so casually, that Martin is sure that he has a sort of follow up to that. 'But in the process, I accidentally learner how to rid you of it.' 

Martin sighs and where the news should make him perk up, he feels an unshakeable trepidation. Can he, really? Can Jon chase away the perpetual fog, that seems to have become part of him on some molecular level, to the point where he doesn't seem to remember where does his body end and where does the fog's begin? 

But Jon goes off tangent for some reason, his voice suddenly heavier than it was when he was talking about the terror of the Lonely. 

'Or the other day, instead of a mere receipe, I've also mistakenly learned that you used to make tea as a way of saying _'I love you'_.'

Martin feels the heat of his cheeks in a distant, muted kind of way, because he seems to have been transported a million miles from where he is actually sitting. 

'Over and over again.' Jon says, staring at his wrists with an expression that looks vaguely like regret.

'Jon.' Martin tries to talk over the terrible abyss between them, desperate to offer something to that, but Jon pushes in, finally meeting his eyes.

'And so, today I decided to make you tea.' 

'You.' Martin repeats under the weight of Jon's expectant gaze. 'Made me tea.' 

That's all he can say, so Jon continues, filling the silence with some slightly manic rambling. 

'Because, you see, I don't think you fully understand the reason why I came for you.' 

'You'd come for any of us.' Martin slowly intercedes and is his voice echoing slightly, the way it did on the shore, with the mournful toll of a broken churchbell? 

'Yes, but it's different with you.' Jon says forcefully and he reaches across the table to touch the pads of his fingers to where Martin's hand is cradling the tea.

'You went into the Buried to get Daisy.' Martin recites, the chime to his voice undeniable now; his syllables melt, slip away like fog in the sunshine.

'Yes, but I came for you because I love you, Martin.' 

Martin doesn't know what changes at first. He only understands that suddenly, there's an absence where there was none before. 

I takes him a moment to realise, that he finally stopped hearing the reverb of the sea amidst the mountains of the Scottish Highland. 

He's half aware that Jon has continued to speak during all of this. 

'And while I know that this is all a bit inconvenient, since you are forced into hiding with me, I think you need to know the extent of my feelings for you. Even if you don't want to have anything to do with the information. Just so you can understand that it's time for you to come back, Martin. There are people out here, who care about you. Not just me. But me too. Me especially.' 

'You care about me.' Martin repeats, dumbfounded and his own voice feels stronger than it has been in days. And Jon's… he can finally hear the rich enunciation, the familiar, old Archivist trait, again.

But it's new, the expression of nude affection on Jon's face, as he leans in a bit more to properly drape his fingers around Martin's.

'God, yes. Of course Martin. More than you could ever know. I told you, I lo…' 

He doesn't get a chance to finish, because Martin grabs his lapels, forcefully. He spills his tea in the process, but he is too busy to worry about that with sealing the Archivist's lips with his own. 

He only pulls away, still maintainig their touch by pushing his forehead against Jon's, to whisper against his lips.

'I love you too.' 

'You do?' Jon asks a bit shakily, then he proceeds to nuzzle Martin a little bit. 'Yes. Of course you do.' 

'Did you just Know that?' Martin asks, indignant that his heartfelt confession wasn't enough. 

'It was by accident.' Jon rushes to assure him, apologetic to a degree that makes Martin smile. 

'Speaking of accidents.' Martin finally moves far enough to look Jon in the eyes and wow. He had no idea that the kitchen was such an atrocious shade of maroon. He preceived it as peach due to the, he now knows, presence of that presistent fog. 'I seem to have spilled my tea. Would you mind making me another one?' 

Coming back was definitely worth the smile Jon flashes at him at that.

'I'd love to. Anything for you, Martin.'

  
  



End file.
